February 2005

And I find myself in this forest I don't recognize, and I wander and everything flows over me, and the air is that of old times. I remember the light strange. 

Nowhere. I turn around observe everybody and nobody, kids, faces different. And similar, far then close, and the air is neither warm nor cold fine I am feeling fine like being in London if I close my eyes perhaps. But the air is the right one the sky too, so artificial like a sheet stretched upon me, upon us even though the others don't realize how funny that horizontal thing that divides the above from the below so well can be, two strips and we move, the others move, I still watch and if I walk it is only my head, deranged senses without having taken anything, why, and yet what I see is too bright and what I hear is too loud like in a dream and head spins and I am swallowed by a sense of peace and fear in which to be in Liverpool Street Station or here or at the seaside has no importance. 
And nobody speaks to me because I don't speak to anybody. They look at me because I look at them and they go and I look for something and me not at home because, why should I go home already if here it is not cold? And time is still. I watch myself like in a movie and I think and the muscles of my face stretch in a grin of speechlessness until my facial features start loosing shape and my face melts and I become part  of the wall. This heat cannot be real! Not heat, more dead, dead time, it doesn't breath, air holds breath and suffocates. The houses are so strange, thousands of people suspended on different floors, one walking on another's head one washes another's head another paints someone else's feet...
I don't know anything anymore I don't remember I read a lot and I don't remember, I knew many things and I don't know them anymore I am empty my brain a hole if you peep through you will see the sky white and the light fake too bright. 

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